


Try Two

by hithelleth



Series: In Enemy's Hands [6]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Romance, Threesome - F/M/M, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:53:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning is not as easy as leaving. Especially when you have already messed up once and you shouldn't do that again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Two

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta-ed. All mistakes are mine. Feedback is always welcome.

Bass is putting on his boots, his back to Charlie, who’s arranging her hair into a bun in front of the mirror.

Miles can’t quite put his finger on what’s wrong with this picture. Then it occurs to him. _Unbelievable._

“You recruited her?!” his voice is gruff from sleep.

“No!” Charlie snaps. “I’m just training,” she clarifies. 

“You can always pick the other option,” Bass reminds her coolly.

“No, thank you.” Charlie flashes an overdone grin at him. He smirks back.

***

Miles is still processing the exchange when he joins them at breakfast.

“So, what’s the alternative?” he picks up the topic.

Bass chews and swallows before answering. “I might have mentioned dungeons.”

Miles tightens his lips: “What?!”

“Come on, it isn’t that much of a threat when she has figured out in that bright head of hers that it would somewhat inconvenience me,” he turns to Charlie, “haven’t you?”

It’s a rhetorical question.

“Of course I have,” she confirms, nonetheless.

“Then why are you still…?” Miles doesn’t get it.

“It’s something to do. You know, so I don’t die of boredom. And,” she pauses, looking straight at Monroe, “the idea of being able to present a challenge for _someone_ does have a certain appeal.”

_Is she actually mocking Bass?_

The latter chuckles.

 _When did they get so... familiar?_ It’s too early for Miles’ brain to work properly but is Charlie actually relaxed and are Bass’ eyes sparkling? _What the hell?_ And no, that thing that tightens in his throat is _not_ jealousy, because that would be stupid. Definitely _not_ jealousy.

Miles doesn’t have time to reflect on it any longer. A guard comes in. Proper greetings are exchanged. Charlie excuses herself. She reappears shortly ad wishes them a good day, a bit uneasily, before she addresses the guard: “I’m ready now.”

“After you, miss Matheson.”

When they are gone, Miles asks Bass: “You still have her under guard?”

“It’s as much for her safety as anything else.”

Miles can’t really argue with that.

Soon after, Bass leaves as well, informing Miles he will send for him later.

***

Jeremy comes to get Miles a little before eleven with three soldiers. He doesn’t cuff him when he leads the way, two men on the flanks and one in the rear with their weapons ready.

Miles walks with his head up, as if he didn’t have a care in this world.

They bring him to Monroe’s war room and leave them alone on the President’s order. Bass gives him a lingering look, puts the file in his hands aside and gets up from his chair. Miles watches him as he strolls to the sideboard. He pours two glasses.

Miles produces the pendants from his pocket and offers them to Bass.

Monroe waits for a second before taking the devices. Then he goes to his desk, unlocks the top drawer, drops them in and locks it again. This is the second time Bass acts as if he hadn’t been desperate to get his hands on something like that, as if he wasn’t obsessed with having the power.

“What?” he asks when he sees Miles’ perplexed expression.

“You want me to believe you don’t care about bringing the power back?”

“I care.” Bass moves closer, now dead serious. “But after fifteen years it can wait another day or two.”

He goes past Miles, shoulders lightly brushing, turns back to face him. “We have more pressing matters at hand, I think.”

And there they are. Miles will probably need that bourbon soon.

“Bass,” he starts, “if you meant what you said, that you wanted me back, then things will have to change.”

Bass nods. “I assumed you would have conditions. You probably have it all figured out how you want it… Bring it on.”

Miles takes a deep breath.

“First of all, the militia needs to get sorted out, no more random plunders, arbitrary confiscations, taking girls from their homes, raping, killings on the spot without trial… This has to stop!” Miles runs out of breath. “For god’s sake, Bass, how on earth has it gotten so out of hand?!”

“Well, your – desertion – certainly didn’t help maintain order.”

A shadow of regret flutters across Bass’ face as soon as the words are out, but Miles swallows the reproach, looking at the floor, for however bitter it sounds, it is the truth.

“You are the general of the Militia, Miles, so go ahead and fix it.”

Miles head snaps back up. “I am?”

Bass answers with silence alone.

Miles exhales. _Okay. Conditions._

“Once you get the power back on, I presume eliminating the Georgia/Plains threat comes first, but preferably without slaughtering –“

“And how do you think they will take us seriously if we just sit and do nothing. Do you think you will tell them ‘hey, we’ve got power’, and they will turn around and run? No, Miles, they will want it for themselves and they will not stop. It’s war, there are bound to be casualties.”

“I _have_ been at war before, remember? Hell, I’ve been at war for the past two decades, Bass. Once you have choppers and tanks and the shite rolling, you have the upper hand. I’m not saying we won’t have to show them we are serious. I know there will be casualties. But we can try to keep them to the minimum. Also, no fucking expansion anymore, when we have chaos outside our front door.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you’ve mentioned that. What about your precious goddamn rebels?!” Bass grates.

“They aren’t my precious… uh! But you have to admit they have reasons to rebel. And if you want to deal with them you have to start listening to them.”

“So what do you want me to do? Resign, let them take over, bring back the United States?” Monroe spits out.

“The United States?” Miles shakes his head: »Ha. No, I don’t think there can be the United States as they were, perhaps not ever again. But this, Bass, this is a dictatorship, and people hate dictators, especially when they don’t see any benefits for them. This has been going on for too long and it’s not going to end well if things don’t change.”

“So, what, you think we should have some kind of a civil government elected? You think whoever comes to power will just let us retire with honours?”

Bass starts pacing to and fro, stopping on each turn to look at Miles. »You’re delusional if you think that, Miles. It doesn’t work like that and you know that, we’ve both seen it. We’ll hang for war crimes.”

Bass stops to catch his breath before proceeding. “And it’s not just us. What about your family? Charlie and Danny? They will be held guilty by association. I won’t even bother mentioning Rachel.”

“I’m well aware of that. And it’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“We need them to stop wanting to rebel. If there is order... transparent laws, justice… medicines, hospitals, enough food… Well, I think most people would be satisfied with that.”

Bass considers it.

“Okay. Most people. What about those who still won’t be happy?”

“There are always people who aren’t happy with something. But, if we have the support of the majority, the rebels will be perceived as terrorists and we will deal with them as such.”

“You’ve thought everything through,” Monroe observes thoughtfully.

“I’ve had some spare time lately.”

Bass scoffs, leaning on the windowsill. He suddenly looks fragile and Miles realises Bass is just as tired of it all as he is.

He moves closer.

“We can do this,” he tells him.

Bass scoffs again, nodding shortly. “Fine, we can do this. If you say so.”

“Well, that is if your war council doesn’t decide to put me in front of the firing squad.” Miles adds.

“They will have to shoot me first.” Bass doesn’t hesitate to say it, perfectly serious.

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it, just as I meant it back then.”

They both remember it, looking at each other now, and at the moment everything seems just as it was, as if nothing had ever broken them apart.

 Miles hasn’t been aware how tense he has been until he feels the relief and hope wash over him.

He makes the first move, puts a hand on Bass’ shoulder and Bass pushes away from the window. Bass practically melts into the hug, his eyes closed. Miles leans his face against Bass’ and takes the few moments he can. They pull away slowly, prolonging the grasp of their arms before parting completely. They both reach for the glasses at the same time, the way they are still synchronised stunning to Miles. They raise them to each other and empty the contents in one go.

Miles puts his glass away. “So, I have a question.”

Bass gestures to him to continue.

“How exactly do you intend to bring me back? I bet there is a bunch of people, like Tom Neville for example, who won’t be too happy about me just coming back as General Matheson as if nothing had happened. I’m the most wanted criminal in the Republic, they will want me dead.”

A ghost of a smile appears round Bass’ mouth. “Well, there have been rumours spreading among the militia that you’ve been actually still working for me, sort of undercover.”

“Huh?!”

“You are underestimating me, Miles. It has always been my plan to bring you back, if only you wanted. You think I wouldn’t pave the way for that?” Bass seems rather proud of himself.

“Huh. Right.” Miles hesitates. “That would also explain why you wanted me taken alive. With, what was it – half a million prize? By the way, I’m flattered.”

Bass grins: “You’re welcome.” He looks at the clock. “I’m famished. I suggest we discuss how to proceed over lunch. And then you can see if your uniform still fits.”

They do just that, talking through various scenarios of Miles resuming his position, agreeing on what they both think will work best. They don’t ignore all the things that may go wrong. But after discussing all the possible angles, they figure they might have enough allies to pull this trough.

***

Charlie slams the bathroom door shut behind her.

Miles doesn’t make anything out of it other than she is in a real hurry until it seems she hasn’t come out for two long. Then he gets concerned. He deliberates a little before knocking on the door.

“Charlie?”

She doesn’t answer. The doorknob gives in when he tries it. Charlie is sitting on the floor, her eyes red-rimmed, the traces of wiped off tears on her cheeks. He is beside her in an instant, pulling her into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Monroe asks from the doorway.

Charlie doesn’t answer, only buries her face in Miles’ shoulder. He strokes her hair, trying to think of something to say.

Bass turns on his heels. Fifteen minutes later he has a full story and the orders regarding the incident issued.

When he returns to the suite, he finds them as they were, Miles softly petting Charlie’s hair.

Charlie looks up at him when he stops on the doorstep: “What did you do?”

“Me?” Bass speaks lightly, “Oh, don’t worry. Recruit Jordan has fair chances of survival. Although, the march to Georgia border might be a little bit painful since you kicked him in the nuts. Not that I mind.”

“Son of a bitch dared to call her names,” he explains to Miles. 

He squats down beside them. He reaches for Charlie’s face, gently but firmly tilting her chin to face him, locking his eyes with hers. 

“You are _not_ my whore.”

Miles clenches his hand into a fist as he hears it. _Someone dared to call her what?!_

However, Charlie relaxes after a beat and gives Bass a small nod. Miles notices it again, the connection between them that must have formed while he was away.

“Just make me forget it,” Charlie sighs.

Bass’ face softens.

“I think we can manage that,” he all but whispers, “right?”

“Mhm,” Miles concurs.

Bass pulls her on her feet, places a gentle kiss on her right cheek. Miles closes his arms around her from behind as he kisses her left one.

After they move to the bedroom, they do make her forget. By the time they are finished, her body seems to be made only of nerve cells, and she floats on the edge of her climax for what it seems like eternity.

When they come down from the height, their breaths settling, it’s Monroe who she snuggles up to, resting her head on his chest.

“You’re not like I imagined,” she tells him.

“Really? And what did you imagine?”

 _Horns and a tail_. She isn’t so stupid to say that, so she keeps quiet.

Monroe smiles into her hair: “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Just so you know: likewise,” he adds after a pause. “Although I probably didn’t give it as much thought as you did, but still.”

She rolls her eyes, knowing he can’t see it, and smiles to herself.

***

In the morning, Miles dons his uniform for the first time in years. There are two guards in a respectful distance behind him and Bass when they walk to the war room, as if no time had passed at all.

Later, after they have gone over the agenda once more, and while they are waiting for the officers to arrive, Miles states what’s been on his mind for the past day: “You care about her.”

“You sound so surprised, Miles, me, the cold-hearted bastard I am, caring about someone?” he mocks.

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.”

Bass looks out the window.

“I do,” he confesses, “Tough, you’re the one to speak.”

“Yeah, well.” Miles shrugs.

Monroe’s lips curve into an indulgent, knowing smile. Just then Jeremy joins them and there are other things to focus on.

It’s one hell of a day, and both of them are exhausted by the end of it. Bass stays in the office with Jeremy, for just a few minutes, to deal with the day-to-day things he hasn’t gotten to all day,  while Miles heads back to Monroe’s quarters, accompanied by two guards, a safety measure since the news of Miles being reinstated has yet to spread. He’s replaying the events of the day in his head on the way.

Half the officers would have gladly shot Miles on spot when they saw him, and it took all Bass’ presidential influence and Jeremy’s back-up to convince them to at least listen first.

If it hadn’t been for the other half, the one they counted on to be more level–headed, they would have failed. They knew it was a far-fetched plan, and Miles still can’t quite believe that it worked. The officers opposing the idea, Neville among them, insisted on trying Miles and it was the hardest thing Miles ever did to stand in the back and stay quiet, listening to the accusations against him, when everything inside him screamed to either defend himself or agree with them at the same time.

In the end, it turned out it was Jeremy who saved the day, Jeremy, who had apparently been lately dropping subtle hints here and there about Miles’ activities that spoke in favour of him being on the Republic’s side. Miles suspected even Monroe hadn’t heard of some of it beforehand, despite the fact that Jeremy had been acting on his orders.

Those little things were what eventually won over the opponents; although Miles is sure the most hardened of them yielded only on the face of it.

But the important thing is that the majority is willing to give him a chance, and that is all he needs for a start. Of course, he will have to watch his back, but that is nothing new to him. 

***

Charlie is sitting on the sofa in the lounge, a book in hand. She is not reading. It’s late, later than usually, but neither Miles nor Monroe has come up yet. She is trying to rationalise that there is much to be done with Miles’ return, but she can’t stop worrying about how it went. _What if the other officers didn’t agree with it, what if they demanded Miles be tried and punished? What if they took him prisoner? And Monroe? What if he gave in under pressure, went back on his word, threw Miles to the lions?_ There is another fear, the one she doesn’t want to acknowledge, gnawing at the back of her mind. She admits, although only to herself, it’s not only Miles she’s concerned about. _What if Monroe stood behind Miles and the other officers turned against him as well?_

She is snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of footsteps, the sound she has learned to recognise anywhere. Miles enters, wearing the militia uniform, fully armed. He looks stern; well, even sterner than usually.

He stands still for a moment as if expecting something from her, judgement perhaps, before putting away his weapons. Then he comes to sit down beside her. She scoots closer to him.

“So,” she says, “this means Miles Matheson, the commanding general of the Monroe militia is back, I assume?”

“Yes.” Miles studies her for a while. “This is it, Charlie, no way back, not this time.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because if you still hope you will escape, help Danny escape –”

“No.”

“But it was the original plan, wasn’t it?” Miles looks away from her, stares into the ceiling, as he goes on, speaking more to himself than to her: “To surrender, so we can get to Danny and when the opportunity arises, we escape.”

He pauses, wets his lips. “That is no longer an option Charlie. If we did it after today, it would probably end with all of us dead.” He sighs. “And, to be honest, I don’t think I can do that – to Bass – not again. I’m too old to change my mind constantly, Charlie. This is for real now. Bass took me back and now I have to try and make it right this time.”

“I know that, Miles.” She reaches up to his face. “I’ve known that for a while, since before we came here. I won’t say I didn’t have some illusions, trying to hold on to that Charlie from...  but I knew if we made it through alive, it wouldn’t..."

"Charlie..."

“No, it’s okay. If you try to, um, you know, improve things, then I’m okay with this. Besides, I’ve got you; Danny’s here, even mom…” she trails off.

“You have your family.” Miles states the obvious.

“I have.”

“And you’re all right with the terms?”

“I am.”

“Just making sure.” Miles shakes his head. “It won’t be easy. Things might, no, _will_ get bloody. You won’t like everything that needs to be done. And – I don’t know if – I don’t know if I or Bass won’t mess up –“

“I’m sure she’ll keep us in line.” They both startle when Monroe speaks from the doorway.

“How long have you been listening?” Miles asks.

“Long enough. Been very interesting.” Monroe strides up to them.

“Glad you’ve found it so.”

“It’s good to know you’re not secretly plotting my demise.” Monroe sits down beside Charlie.

She lays her head on Miles’ shoulder. But she’s looking at Monroe when she asks: “I’m to keep you two from screwing things up more than they already are?”

 “I sure don’t see anyone else brave or competent enough to try.” Monroe points out. “So, do we have a deal?”

Charlie inhales, a bit taken a back, but answers decisively: “Okay.”

“Okay.” Miles agrees, kissing her forehead.

“Then it’s a deal.” Monroe confirms, rubbing her upper arm. 


End file.
